2pt6 The Definition of Mutant
by Lamby
Summary: When Shield picks up some strange intel from the Arctic, Logan and Blaze are sent to investigate. What follows will threaten all the X-Men and challenge their very definition of mutant.
1. Chapter 1

#When Shield picks up some strange intel from the Arctic, Logan and Blaze are sent to investigate. What follows will challenge the X-Men's very definition of mutant.#

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**01**

"Tell me again Wolverine," the redheaded British girl besides him asked over the crackle of the radio, the drone of the helicopter rotors and the scream of the Arctic winds. "Apart from my obvious use as a fantastic hot water bottle, what am I doing here?"

Hanging grimly onto a bar that ran along the inside of the open-sided helicopter, Wolverine pondered his answer as he watched the icebergs rush past not so very far beneath them. The real answer, to keep his mind on the job at hand, wasn't the one he wanted Blaze to know. Logan was all too aware that this mission had come at the worst possible time.

Right about now, the X-Jet should be touching down in Muir Island, off the Scottish coast. On board were Hank, the Professor, Xavier's son David and his daughter Ilehana. David was to be reunited with his mother Gabrielle, Xavier's ex-wife. Ilehana on the other hand was being taken to the island's Research Centre. She was deep in a coma, and the X-Men hoped that Moira McTaggart might be able to help bring her round. More than anything, Logan wanted to be at Ilehana's side, but that was not to be. Instead he was here in the Arctic in a Shield helicopter with only the Firefly for sensible company. Great.

"You remember when you an' the Cajun went undercover through Blink's portal to investigate Sinister's lair?" Logan growled into the radio mike on his headset. Blaze nodded once, of course she remembered. "Well Beast finally had a breakthrough with the readings he took of the other side. Some particles or other, when he ran 'em through some chromatography or somethin' they could only have come from the Arctic. Not much to go on, but then I had a message from an old acquaintance. A satellite had spotted some funny goings on at an Arctic site…"

"A Second World War submarine," Nick Fury elaborated, coming to join Wolverine and Blaze. "Trapped for sixty-plus years in the ice pack."

"So here we are," Wolverine concluded. "Hitching a ride with this bunch of cowboys to go investigate what exactly is goin' on. Satisfied?"

"I know what you're doing here Wolverine," Blaze griped. "I still don't know what I've done to deserve this."

"You were happy enough to come along when Logan first asked you," Fury pointed out.

"Yeah," said Blaze, shrinking into her Arctic survival gear, "but that was before I knew we were going somewhere cold."

"I needed someone who'd been to Sinister's base before," Wolverine replied candidly. "That only leaves you or Gumbo. Besides, you're a Northern English lass, aren't you? I figured you could handle the cold better than that Southern pretty boy. Be like comin' home for you."

Blaze laughed sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Her gaze flickered to the fast-approaching polar ice-sheet. The daylight reflected off the snow was so bright it hurt her eyes. The cold wind stung her cheeks, turning them pink, and chapped her rosebud lips. One thing was blatantly obvious as Blaze wriggled her toes in her boots, trying to keep them warm. Gambit seriously owed her one…

Roll titles…………………………….


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**02**

When it came down to it, and if he'd been offered a choice, Gambit would probably have preferred to be in the Arctic. As it was the Cajun was sat at the back of a classroom in the cavernous lower levels of the Xavier Institute. He had his feet up on the desk in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His chair pivoted dangerously on two legs, just the way your parents told you not to sit. His arms were folded and the scowl on his handsome face told of his displeasure. Around him, also sat at desks, were a handful of the Institute's students. At the very fore of the classroom stood their instructors, Scott and Jean.

"You each have a copy of a map of Bayville," Scott was lecturing eagerly. "Precisely, this map," he pointed behind him to where a map was projected onto the white wall. Gambit stifled a groan. This was going to be a long day. "You can see points A and B clearly marked here, and here." Scott actually had a laser pointer to aide his demonstration. Gambit could think of some more interesting things to do with it.

"What we want you to do is plan the quickest route from point A to point B," Jean told everyone, bestowing an encouraging smile on the class, even Gambit. Feeling patronised Gambit proceeded to fold his paper map into a fighter jet, much to Jean's consternation. "Um, that's not quite what I had in mind Gambit…" Remy ignored her, launching the jet lethargically. It soared twice around the room, before landing on Berserker's desk. Ray wanted to see if electricity had any effect on paper planes, and by means of his powers practically vaporised the paper. Jean descended into a sulk as the smell of charred parchment filed the air.

"Has anyone got an answer yet?" Scott asked over the bedlam.

"Yeah, yeah," Boom Boom waved her manicured hand in the air giddily. "You wanna like use Nightcrawler, am I right?"

"Use me?" Kurt exclaimed, feeling hurt.

"No powers," Scott lectured.

"Well that's my plan out the window," Cannonball launched his own paper plane, which clouted Magma on the back of her head and consequentially also got incinerated.

"Use the X-Van?" Iceman quipped, finding out that ice planes didn't fly as well as paper ones. Jean rolled her eyes, "Ugh, no vehicles. Just you, okay, nothing else." Shaking his head, Gambit got to his feet and made for the door. Behind him, Jean and Scott shared a glance, before Scott asked him where he was going.

"Last I checked, mes amies" Gambit drawled over his shoulder whilst leaning on the doorframe. "I ain't signed up for no geography class." With that remark he sauntered off, closing the door behind him. He didn't really know where he was going; just that he couldn't stand to be in that room any longer. This was all Blaze's fault, he though angrily. If she hadn't decided to stand me up for Logan an' his fancy mission, none o' dis would've happened.

"Gambit, how's the training session going?" asked Storm, collaring the Cajun in the kitchen.

"They're carryin' on wit'out me," Gambit informed her, going to the fridge and extracting a can of soda.

"Oh," asked Ororo, "how come?"

"Blaze an' I worked all dat session out," Remy moaned. "Now she's deserted me, Cyke an' Jean jus' takin' over an' they're doin' it all wrong. I ain't gonna sit there like some enfant and let them teach me how to use a map."

It was true too; the training session had been his and Blaze's idea. Admittedly they had formulated it down the pub, using beer mats as buildings and peanuts as cars or whatever. The idea though had stuck with them when sober, and the two friends had approached the Professor with it. A course in urban orientation, he'd called it. Blaze had preferred to call it training for a clean getaway, and Gambit was inclined to agree. Still, it was supposed to be a practical course happening right there on the streets of Bayville, not the theoretical approach being taught by the Grey-Summers partnership downstairs.

"No doubt you're blaming Blaze for going on the mission with Logan," Storm said as Gambit opened his can. "After what Lucas did to her, revealing her most secret memories to all of us, do you not think maybe a mission might be the best thing for her? It's keeping her busy at least."

"I know," Gambit admitted, "but she could've at least said au revoir, non?"

"It's only a recon mission," Storm chastised him knowingly. "She will soon be back, and you can let her know how much you've missed her."

"Huh," Gambit laughed humourlessly. "Rogue dumped me 'cause of what Lucas showed us from Blaze's mind. Rogue t'inks I cheated on her when I did not'ing o' the sort. When Blaze comes back, I be the first in the queue for a quiet word."

"No you won't," Ororo replied with a wry expression on her face. "You'll buy the poor girl some flowers, and you'll tell her that what Lucas did to her doesn't matter. That however everyone else around here treats her, you'll be there for her."

"When did you qualify as a relationship counsellor?" Remy asked grudgingly, crushing the can he held between his fingers.

"You forget," Storm pointed out. "I have already lived through Scott and Jean, and Logan and Ilehana dragging out the inevitable. There is a spark between you and Blaze, Gambit. You should be nurturing it, not trying to deny that it exists. Trust me on this, okay?"

"T'anks for the advice," drawled Gambit sarcastically. It was a defence mechanism, against words that sounded a bit too much like common sense to Remy. He tossed the empty can in the trash and stalked out of the room.

"And next time, remember to recycle!" Storm called after him. With a shake of her head, Storm removed the can from the trash and put it into the recycling instead. She hoped that Logan wouldn't keep Blaze away too long. She didn't know how much of Gambit's moping she could take.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**03**

Wolverine had decided to take seventy-two hours over the mission. He'd scheduled a pick up with Nick Fury in three days time. The recon was supposed to be under the radar, so as not to raise suspicions that might lead to the wrapping up of whatever was going on at the submarine. Fury was simply dropping the X-Men off at a convenient distance from the Erabus, and then he was pulling out.

As the Shield 'copter took off, Blaze and Logan watched from amidst their new base camp. The two X-Men were dressed in rather fetching snow gear; white boots, white padded trousers, overlapped with a white jacket that gathered in at the waist. Both had their hoods up, faces outlined by the fake fur lining. Scarves were wrapped around their mouths and noses, thick padded gloves protected their hands, and both of them wore tinted visors to protect their eyes from the glare of the sun off the pristine snow.

Shield had loaned them two snowmobiles and a special snow-camouflaged dome tent. When Blaze had complained that she didn't want to share with Wolverine, Fury had laughed at her. "Oh you will," he told her. "When it's minus fifty outside in the middle of the night, you won't care who you're snuggled up with."

"So you really did bring me as a hot water bottle?" Blaze quipped at Logan, who refused to rise to the bait. "Men," Blaze exclaimed under her breath, tossing the sleeping bags through the tent's door. "Why do they have such a problem with just buying flowers or chocolates? It's not hard."

"I heard that," grouched Logan. "I've told you before Firefly, you ain't my type. Still, if it's a choice between sharing a tent with you or Gumbo…"

As soon as the Shield 'copter had disappeared over the horizon, Wolverine nodded in the direction of the snowmobiles. They set off with a growl of engines and a flurry of disturbed snow. Splitting up, Wolverine went northwest whilst Blaze headed southeast. They both had sat-nav consoles telling them the position of the trapped Erabus submarine in the ice sheet. By splitting up, they doubled their chances of seeing something, anything that would make the expedition worthwhile.

The ice sheet was treacherous, crenulated like the massive battlements of some ancient white fortress. It extended in every direction, like the whole world was trapped in this prehistoric blanket of ice. There were no landmarks, as one ice-ridge looked identical to all the others. Blaze knew that without the sat-nav she would be totally lost. The bleak, salt-tinged wind told of the distant seas that once-upon-a-time this empty wasteland had belonged to. A frozen sea, and trapped within it was the creaking hulk of an old submarine. Was it the base of Magneto and Mr Sinister? Or did it contain something else?

Crawling commando-style on her belly up a ridge, Blaze got her first view of the Erabus. The great grey tube lay bizarrely encased in ice and snow. Blaze put binoculars to her eyes to take a closer look. There was nobody about, but that didn't mean there were no visible signs of life. The redhead lowered her binoculars and struggled out of the scarf that covered her mouth. She had a short distance two-way radio clipped to her waist. Pressing a button on the side sent a call sign to Logan, letting him know she was about to speak.

"There are footprints in the snow," she told him. "Someone is here, that much is obvious. Are you getting anything?"

"I'm not picking up any scents," Logan responded from his lookout post. "But that don't mean they're not…" There was a crackle, a hiss, and suddenly nothing. Blaze gulped, resisting the temptation to use the radio to ask what was wrong. She waited for Logan to re-establish the connection, but there was nothing. Panic started to claw at her gut as she slid back down the ridge on her haunches, cupping the now-silent radio to her chest.

If Wolverine had been attacked and she used the radio, she would give away that he wasn't on his own. That would be dangerous for both of them. The attackers might come after her, or torture Wolverine to get her to reveal herself. Neither did she know exactly where Logan was on the ice sheet, so she couldn't go to his aide. Devoid of options, Blaze got back on her snowmobile and headed back to base camp. She only hoped that Logan was doing the same.

There was someone in the base camp as Blaze pulled up a short distance away. Shivering, Blaze rubbed her gloves together frenziedly to try and get some heat into her fingers. Then she picked up her binoculars again. She bit her chapped lip as she recognised both Pyro and Sinister's flamboyant minion Ruckus. They were striding through the X-Men's camp with confidence, Pyro's manic laughter chafing the air. Flicking his wrist left and then right, Pyro systematically started to torch the supplies and shelter. Blaze wasn't worried about him. Instead she was watching Ruckus kicking at the ice with the toe of his boot.

The base camp was on a cliff top. About two hundred paces away from the tent, the ice sheet fell away suddenly. Below, the ice was thinner and more fragmented; transient ice that grew and receded with the seasons. In the distance the ocean churned against its frozen edge. As Blaze observed, Ruckus and Pyro retreated from the smouldering camp and the cliff edge. Pyro made sure that he was stood behind Ruckus, folding his arms and smiling laconically. Ruckus cricked his neck, flicking long brown hair back over his shoulder. Then he opened his mouth and let rip with his mutant power.

Blaze hunkered down instinctively, covering her ears with her gloved hands and gritting her teeth. The noise Ruckus produced was incredible. The ground shook with the fury. Not much of a tune though, Blaze thought insolently. Suddenly there was an abrupt crack, louder than Ruckus' roar. The splitting, breaking noise accelerated as the ice buckled under the stress Ruckus placed on it. Before Blaze's eyes the solid ground that they had pitched camp on disintegrated, crumbled and slid down the cliff face. Every piece of survival equipment and shelter disappeared in a cloud of shattered ice and snow.

Blaze had to shield her face as shards of crystalline debris were flung through the air. When she looked back, not only had Pyro and Ruckus gone, but the ice shelf where the camp had been had gone too. "Oh no," Blaze moaned, revving the snowmobile and surging across to the site of the devastation. It was no good. Everything had gone. She was alone in the Arctic with no food and no shelter. She didn't know what had happened to Wolverine, and she had three days to wait for a pick up. Blaze got a sinking feeling akin to the Titanic. What was she going to do?


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**04**

Basketball in hand, Gambit headed out of doors hoping that shooting some hoops would make him feel better. There were splashes and whoops of laughter coming from the swimming pool. Nice to know Rogue was missing his company, not. Kitty was there too, and Gambit thought he heard her call over to him, but he didn't respond. Petty he knew, but somehow satisfying. There were another couple of the Institute's students who had escaped the "training session" down in the basement. They were hanging around a low wall on the way to the basketball court, and as Gambit approached he heard the sound of an argument.

"Don't be like that Morose, we're just tryin' to be friendly," protested Jamie, reaching out to take the book that Morose was holding like a weapon. Too late he realised that the albino girl was poised to strike. She shoved the book hard in Multiple's stomach, pushing him backwards and splitting off three or four duplicates. Morose, a recent arrival at the Institute whose black void powers were linked to perpetual bad moods and issues of self-respect, hugged her book to her chest possessively.

"I told you Jamie, I'm reading! Leave me alone," she snapped. Morose hadn't noticed Gambit approaching her from behind. She glowered at Jamie and his companion, the four-armed, frog-eyed Golan. "Go away!"

"Know Morose dat de Multiple, he means no badness. Golan and Multiple try only to make better Morose feel," Golan stuttered in his weird, backward accent that would leave Star Wars' Yoda confused.

"I don't want to feel better!" Morose screamed, lashing out at Golan with her book. Gambit timed his moment perfectly, grabbing the book over Morose's shoulder and jerking it out of her grasp. Morose spun around to face him, practically spitting feathers. She pinned the Cajun with angry, reproachful red eyes. She gave a little shake of her head, so that her heavy white fringe with its dark roots covered the stubby goat-like horns that protruded from her forehead. Her power seethed around her like a black halo.

"What?" Gambit asked with a forced smile. "I already lived t'rough the worst your powers could t'row at me, 'Rose. You really wanna go down dat route again?"

Morose touched her fingertips to her forehead and somehow wrestled her powers back under control. The otherworldly void shrunk, vanished, and both Golan and Multiple vented a sigh of relief. At a nod from Gambit, both boys made a hasty exit. Gambit handed Morose back her book with a flourish, saying, "They only tryin' to be nice, 'Rose. You ain't gonna be judged here like you were at home. Here whatever you is, dat's good enough for us Cherie." He bestowed a warm grin on her, making the girl flush a little as she floundered, "I just want to read…"

"So read already," Remy told her, turning away and bouncing his basketball along the ground as he walked towards the basketball court. Morose sat back down on the wall and returned to reading her book. Within moments, Gambit and the boys were forgotten as she became engrossed.

"We were only tryin' to be nice," Jamie told Gambit as Remy found the boys waiting for him on the court. Gambit tossed Multiple the ball, replying, "I know Jamie. I also know wit' some women, no amount o' tryin' gonna please 'em." Rogue, he thought, Blaze… "Best to let 'em get on wit' it, eh? Now how about you spread yourself about a bit an' give me an' Golan a game?"

"Like this much Golan would!" exclaimed the earth elemental, whilst Jamie more concisely responded, "Alright!" He split himself in three and headed off up the court. "Cheating you are!" Golan exclaimed, running after him as fast as his stocky legs would carry him. "Three of you but two of us only are there!"

"Yeah, but Gambit's a grown-up, he counts for two!" argued Jamie, passing the ball between the three of himself and taking a shot at the basket. He scored with his first attempt, but Gambit didn't mind. It might only be a matter of height, but at least he'd found some people who looked up to him. With the day he was having, it was a nice feeling. Taking the ball for the restart, Remy attacked the game with relish.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wolverine had also been attacked with relish. He had been set upon by his old foe Sabretooth, who he could handle, and by Sinister's minion Vertigo. It turned out that a super immune system was no advantage over a blast of chronic height phobia, nausea, dizziness, and who knows what else the luscious white-haired woman blasted him with. Compared to his usual battles with Sabretooth, this one had been over quickly. Babbling and confused, on the brink of unconsciousness, Wolverine was dragged to the Erabus by the feet, his head bouncing over the ice.

The dark closed in about him and he thought he had passed into a coma, maybe even death. Belatedly he realised he had been taken inside the submarine, and that his captors had been joined by two more figures. They were Magneto, who had altered the sub's innards to his own design so that they no longer resembled a submarine, and Mister Sinister. Magneto plucked Wolverine up and slung him in the air by his adimantium skeleton. Logan groaned impassively, feeling his strength starting to return but still not strong enough to fight back.

"Excellent," crooned Sinister, plucking at Logan's jaw irreverently. "With Wolverine's healing powers extracted I will be able to make our soldiers invincible. Even more astounding, with the powers bestowed on him in the guise of the Guardian of Metal, he will lend them strength, guile and determination. I am most impressed with this specimen."

"You're welcome," drawled Magneto. With a bare flex of his powers he thrust Logan across the room and into a stasis tank. For a brief moment Logan struggled frantically, but in vain. Almost as soon as he realised what was happening, he was in suspended animation inside a glass tube. Whatever Sinister and Magneto did next, Wolverine was not privy too.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**05**

"C'mon our kid, think," Blaze mumbled to herself as she paced back and forth on the top of the glacier. She wrung her hands together, even though she couldn't feel her fingers anymore. The cold penetrated everything. Her feet were frozen lumps inside her boots and she couldn't stop shivering. Teeth chattering, she looked out over the cliff top and frantically tried to decide what to do.

Option one had been to wait for Wolverine to return and take charge of the situation, but he was yet to put in an appearance. Option two as to go all gung-ho and charge in to rescue him, presuming that he had been captured and was being held in the sub. The problem with this option was that if the occupants of the Erabus could capture Wolverine, the chances were that Blaze alone would not be strong enough to beat them either. She needed reinforcements, which left her two more options. She could try and sneak into the Erabus and steal a radio. Or she could try somehow to get down the cliff and recover a transmitter from the ruins of the camp.

Instantly, sneaking into the Erabus seemed like the more likely option to the one-time thief. However, thinking back to her earlier survey of the sub, Blaze remembered that the only way in and out was through the main hatch. From what Blaze had seen, it was locked up tight from the inside, and probably alarmed or guarded somehow too. If she wanted to avoid confrontation, for Logan's sake as well as her own, that wasn't the way to go about this. So that left scaling the cliff somehow, and rescuing what she could from the camp.

By now Blaze's stomach was growling and her mouth was parched. Her powers were fuelled by a hypermetabolism that ran much faster than a normal human. Consequentially she had to eat twice as much, twice as often. Going without food and water for much longer was potentially life threatening. That probably made her mind up as much as anything, because she knew there would be food at the bottom of the cliff.

Peering over the ledge of the ice sheet Blaze had a vertigo attack nothing to do with Sinister's minion. It was a very long way down. Returning to the snow mobile, Blaze pulled out a towrope and made sure it was secured to the vehicle. She looped the other end around her slender waist and fastened it tight. Then there was nothing else to do, so she chose a likely looking route and lowered herself over the edge.

Carefully, slowly, Blaze climbed down the ice cliff with the cable around her waist as a safety rope. Her boots skidded against the smooth, glistening surface and she struggled to keep a purchase. The sun was setting now and the temperature plummeting rapidly. The sunset reflected off the ice in front of her and made her eyes water even through her visor. Gusts of sharp, freezing wind sucked at her like a toothless old woman sucking on toffee. Blaze had to use her powers to melt handholds into the ice as she continued her steady progress down the cliff face.

Blaze burnt the fingers out of her gloves, and cold melt-water ran down the inside of her coat sleeves to her back. Her hood fell down and her long red hair was ripped loose, getting in her mouth, but she dared not let go to sort it out. Keeping her breathing deep and even, concentrating totally on where next to put her hands and feet, Blaze refused to bow to the urge to look down.

With an almighty wail, a gust of wind dragged Blaze clear of the ice sheet and flung her out into space. She screamed as she plummeted, clattering against the face of the ice like falling marbles in a game of kerplunk. The wire around her waist suddenly snapped taunt as it reached its full length, smacking Blaze into the wall of ice and knocking all her breath from her lungs. Dazed and confused, Blaze dangled for a moments on the end of the rope, trying to regain her composure. She tugged the scarf and visor away from her face, letting them fall from her grasp as she took great gulps of frozen air. The breath leaving her body clouded on the air in a thick mist. Casually she spun on the end of the wire, wondering if she had done herself a serious injury in the fall.

Eventually Blaze decided she was all right, and convinced herself to reach out and grab the cliff face again. She couldn't quite reach. She would have to swing herself outwards in a pendulum motion so that she could swing back in. Just like being on a rope swing when you were a kid, Blaze told herself, though she was unable to think of one occasion in her urban childhood when she had played on a rope swing. Amazingly after only a couple of false starts, she was close enough to force fiery fingers into the Arctic ice. She breathed a sign of relief, waiting for a moment for her heart rate to slow.

There was a grating sound far above her, and the rope around her waist went slack. Clinging to the cliff face, it took Blaze a few seconds to work out what was happening. The snowmobile was slipping over the ice, towards the edge of the cliff! If it went over, it would drag her down too! Blaze took a swift look below her, and then wished she hadn't. Her right hand frantically tried to untie the rope around her waist, but she couldn't unfasten it with only one hand. She tried to melt it, but the wire was cold and she was exhausted. There was another noise above, before something large came whistling past Blaze on the edge of her vision. There was a heartbeat when Blaze was just waiting, then the rope snapped tight again and Blaze was wrenched off the cliff.

Taking a great breath inwards, Blaze turned to her powers. She shifted into her fire-form, letting the rope slide through the flames that made up her intangible body. Free of the snowmobile, she rolled in the air and pointed her hands at the ground. From her fiery palms she issued a belch of dragons' fire. From the moment the torrent of flame hit the ice below, the rate at which Blaze was falling slowed. There was a crunching, deafening impact as the snowmobile landed and disintegrated. Blaze closed her eyes tight as the ground rushed up to meet her. The fiery figure crashed into the snow and ice of the ground, rolled three times, flared brighter for a moment and then went out.

The solid human version of Blaze lay on her back, winded and barely conscious. By hitting the ground in her fire form she had avoided breaking bones, but the cold embrace of the snow and ice had sapped her strength. In truth, she felt like death warmed up. With incredible persistence, the redheaded English girl rolled over onto her belly and somehow forced herself onto all fours. The devastation of the base camp lay all around her. The remains of the tent flapped disconsolately in the wind.

Blinking tears from her eyes, Blaze scanned the debris for anything that looked like it could be a transmitter. There was nothing, and she was about to give up and wait for the inevitable. It was almost dark now, the world closing in about her and fingers of cold crept in under her clothing. Blaze put her hand on something sharp that she had not seen and yelped, her palm bleeding crimson blood onto the snow. Annoyed, she tugged the object out of the drift and was amazed to find it was a homing beacon of some kind. The casing was cracked, but that was the only damage she could see. In a final act of desperation, Blaze threw the switch to turn the device on. It lit up an encouraging blue-green colour. It was the last thing Blaze saw before she passed out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**06**

When the Velocity had touched down in the Arctic, it had been a clear, unadulterated morning with barely a cloud in the sky. Proving that the roof of the world could be an unpredictable place, barely half an hour later the sky had gone dark and great flurries of snow cut swathes across the landscape. The wind howled, slicing through clothing, skin and flesh as the search and rescue team were chilled to the bone. If this was Arctic springtime, Gambit was glad he wasn't here any earlier in the year.

"We need to take shelter!" cried Jean over the keening of the wind. Remy wondered why she bothered when she could speak to them telepathically. The two snowmobiles, one carrying Scott and Jean, one carrying Gambit, lurched forward towards the giant ice cliff reared up in the middle distance. Cyclops triggered his visor, boring a cave into the ice with his laser eye beam. The three X-Men pulled up just inside the cave and turned off the engines of the vehicles. Scott extracted a palmtop computer from a pocket of his jacket and booted it up.

"It's no good," he informed his companions. "The homing beacon signal has gone. The battery must have run flat."

"Where'd you last see it?" Gambit asked, presuming that Cyclops would have the sense to note things like that.

"I… I don't know, I didn't take the reference," Scott admitted.

"You what?" Gambit couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"There was a steady signal; I didn't know the battery was dying…" Scott protested, only for Gambit to cut him off.

"For your sake, it'd better be jus' de battery that's dead!"

"Fighting won't solve anything," Jean preached as Remy turned his back on the couple and got back on his snowmobile. "Gambit, where are you going? You can't carry on searching in a blizzard!"

"Wolverine an' Blaze could be out there," Remy retorted grimly. "You wanna stay here, that's fine by me." He turned the snowmobile around and with a roar of the engine he disappeared back into the blizzard. Even if Jean and Scott had been inclined to follow him, they couldn't. Within seconds the falling snow had covered his tracks, so they had no idea where he had gone.

"Now what?" Jean demanded of Scott, who pressed his lips together grimly and folded his arms. "We wait here," Scott decided. "Going out in this is suicide, and pointless. Gambit could drive right by Wolverine or Blaze in this weather and not even see them."

The same thought had crossed Remy's mind, but only after he'd stormed out of the cave. He consoled himself by thinking at least now he didn't have to play chaperone and spare wheel to Summers and Grey. The great swooning gusts and flurries of snow were confusing and deluding. Several times Gambit thought he saw something through the snowfall, only to find there was nothing there. Rapidly he learned not to trust his eyes, even when he thought the ground ahead of him looked very pitted and uneven. He pushed back his gut reaction even when there appeared to be a piece of tent fabric fluttering on a pole like a flag. He needed more, there had to be more clues to tell him what had happened to his friends…

Suddenly something did catch Gambit's eye, something red-gold and shimmering against the snow. Mon Dieu, thought Remy, No! He slammed the brakes on the snowmobile and flung himself to his knees in the snowdrift. His gloved fingers teased a lock of red-gold hair, desperate for it not to be true. Blaze was buried here, under the snow. Remy started to dig terrier-like, tenaciously scraping the snow away any which way he could. It was no good, for every bit he cleared more fell to fill its place. He was going to lose her!

In a flash of inspiration, Remy abandoned digging in order to construct a bivouac shelter over the site using his snowmobile, the remains of a broken vehicle, and the torn canvas from the tent. Not exactly a continental villa, but it kept the worse of the snowfall off. Back to the excavation and Gambit trawled away like a prairie dog, frantically pawing at the snow.

Gambit's heart stopped when he found her. Blaze was ice-cold to the touch and as white as the snow tomb she lay in. Her brown eyes were closed and there was no sign of life. Idiot, Remy cursed himself as he crawled into the den and hugged her body to him, you're too late. He choked back tears with a silent scream. This was no way to end it, so far away from everything of any importance.

He curled himself around her, wrapping her tight in his arms and buried his face in her soft curly hair. She was so cold, he couldn't bare it, it wasn't right. Gambit tugged his gloves off with his teeth and then cupped her pale, peaceful face with his bare fingers. With abandonment he poured his own power into her, flushing her with energy. At the same time Remy pleaded and beseeched in a hoarse whisper, "Blaze, please, you ain't gotta leave like dis. It too hard Chere, I can't take it. Too much we ain't done, too much we ain't said…"

Wherever Blaze was, she wasn't listening. The fast-falling snow was entombing them inside the crude shelter. As Gambit continued to charge Blaze's body with his powers, at least the air in the bivouac was beginning to warm up. Gambit's breath no longer clouded on the air, and Blaze's body was no longer icy to his touch. Despite the rising warmth, Gambit felt increasingly numb as shock set in. As he lay there, cherishing the fire elemental's body, he knew he was babbling but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Stopping would be tantamount to giving up, not just on Blaze, but on everything that ever had been or could have been between them.

"You gotta come back Blaze. Stormy says I gotta buy you flowers when you get back to Bayville. You gotta come back or Storm'll skin me alive. Jus' coz I ain't never bought you no flowers…" Blaze's body was glowing now, illuminating the emptiness with the distorted fuchsia glow of Gambit's kinetic powers. Gambit put his chin on Blaze's head and closed his eyes. "Please Chere, come back. You ain't gotta worry 'bout what anyone t'inks o' you after what Lucas did to you. They all got their secrets too, none of 'em are saints. I swear Blaze; I'll look out for you, all right?"

There was nothing, no response from the fire elemental. Everything was still, poignant and weighted with lead and ash. It's over Remy, he told himself. She's gone, and there is nothing you can do to bring her back. Slowly he turned to withdrawing his powers from the precious body without damaging her. Remy was exhausted, his fingers numb and his head tingling with the over exertion of charging a whole person. The glow in the little snow den died, and all hope died with it. Broken-hearted, Remy kissed Blaze's hair and whispered, "Je suis desole Laura, I'm so sorry. I t'ought we had forever, I was wrong."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**07**

"Remy…" Just the faintest breath of his name, but it was enough. Gambit started in wonderment as Blaze's eyes flickered, then opened. Her big brown eyes were unseeing for a moment as she asked, "Gambit, where are you?"

"I'm right here," Gambit swore, touching her face. The despair departed, leaving him light-headed and woozy. "I t'ought I lost you Laura, I t'ought you gone an' left me all alone."

"So did I," Laura admitted, nuzzling closer into Remy's chest. Gambit wrapped his arms around her as they lay in the snow, closed his eyes and smelt the fire returning to her. "I could hear you, but I couldn't reach you." She sighed, "I take it I'm still in the Arctic?"

"Sorry Chere, we ain't done here yet," Gambit told her gently. "Where's Logan?"

"I don't remember," Blaze responded, lifting her chin so that she could look Remy in the eye. "I'm sorry. It might come back to me, but at the minute it's all blacked out. Last time this happened to me, it was two weeks before I got my memories back."

"Last time, what d'you mean last time?"

"I talked to Ilehana about it once," Blaze explained abstractly. "It's a torpor state, like a lighter version of hibernation. If I don't eat enough to maintain my powers and my body temperature, and then I'm somehow cold and exposed, my body shuts down until I get warm again," Blaze paused, thinking hard. "You don't have anything to eat do you?"

"Sorry Chere, supplies are all on the Velocity."

"Does that mean it's time to get up?" Blaze asked innocently. Gambit nodded, but hugged her tight so that she could do nothing of the sort. Blaze seemed content with this and didn't protest. They stayed like this for a short while, until Gambit finally broke the silence, "I t'ink the snow's stopped."

Right on cue, there was a distant shout of Gambit's name. Fearing the worst, Cyclops and Jean had left their shelter as soon as the snowfall stopped and were combing the ice shelf for any sign of the errant Cajun. Grudgingly Gambit started to make a move to get up, but Blaze stopped him. She touched his cheek with her soft fingertips and placed her mouth gently over his. She kissed him sweetly, before breaking the contact. Gambit groaned, wanting more, but Blaze was already clambering out of their shelter like a rabbit leaving its warren. Shaking his head, Gambit followed.

Scott and Jean had found the site of the former base camp and had been frantically looking for signs of life. The snowfall had covered Gambit's tracks and disguised the makeshift igloo. So when Remy and Laura suddenly popped up out of nowhere like bright-eyed meerkats, it gave both Cyclops and Jean a short, sharp surprise. Cyclops was most certainly not impressed, "Where did you two come from? Man, Gambit, you shouldn't have taken off like that!"

"I found Blaze," Gambit pointed out the obvious, folding his arms defensively.

"You disobeyed a direct order," Cyclops continued angrily. "You had no idea that you could find Blaze, and no idea how you were going to find Jean and I again in that snowstorm!"

"Sure I did," Gambit smirked. "Dis boy can always find a pretty lady, mon ami." Remy ran his most lecherous gaze over Jean, making Blaze chuckle, Jean blush and Cyclops nearly blow his top. Fortunately, Gambit saw the danger and took Blaze by the hand. To appease Scott, Blaze went willingly into Gambit's arms, seeing Cyclops' expression mellow a little around the edges at this recent development. Jean however still had her mind on the job, "Blaze, what happened? Where's Wolverine?"

"I don't know, I don't remember," Blaze replied, rubbing her forehead with her palm. "Some food might jog my memory though, and then maybe you could take a look?"

"Sure," replied a shocked Jean. It wasn't like Blaze to volunteer for an invasion of privacy. "If you're positive you don't mind?"

"Huh," laughed Blaze humourlessly. "After Lucas' invasion I'm sure your telepathic visitation will be an absolute balm. Besides there's no other way, is there?"

"What do you think happened to you?" Scott wanted to know.

"Long story short," Blaze answered meekly, shuddering. "I think I got buried alive."

"Oh no," Jean was aghast. "You poor thing. C'mon, let's get back to the Velocity for some food and some dry gear. Then we can figure out what to do next." No one had any arguments with this eminently sensible idea. Gambit and Scott tugged the Cajun's snowmobile free of the drift whilst Jean supported a wobbly Blaze. "After all," Jean reckoned, "Wolverine knows how to take care of himself."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In a cavernous room in the bowels of the Erabus submarine, Wolverine awoke with a start. He found himself lying flat on his back, staring at the riveted steel ceiling. He couldn't move and there was pressure on his ankles, wrists and around his neck. He quickly realised he was strapped down on a table, and that there were people gathered around him. Logan blinked his eyes, trying to focus them, and gasped in shock. The people working around him were in fact all the same person, a small woman with big green eyes and wispy blonde hair. There were seven clones of this tiny, lab coat-wearing scientist scurrying around him. Beyond these clones of the woman called Splice, Wolverine could hear voices, and they sounded familiar.

"This time Sinister, I fear you have gone too far with your malicious ministrations," lectured Magneto. "DNA transplants into mutants to make them more powerful, and even into humans to make them _Homo superior_, this work is well achieved. However this is…"

"Magneto, my dear colleague and fellow crusader for the perfection of the mutant genome," crooned the malignant tones of Sinister. "Do not fret. You admit, do you not, that in algebra one must be willing to work the equation both ways in order to find the solution? Thus so with genetics. To fully understand where we are going as a species, we must first understand where we came from."

"I know where we have come from," riled Magneto. "Our history is one of persecution and hatred, as is our future. We experiment to make ourselves stronger so that we will prevail against our enemies. I fail to see the benefit of unravelling a man's genome inside of him whilst he still lives. It is not science, it is a perverse torture."

"You are entitled to your opinions of course," responded Sinister haughtily. "I see the work as necessary, and what better candidate for my experiment than one of our enemies. Especially as that enemy has an unrivalled ability to self-heal…"

At this point, one of the Splices crawled over Logan with a giant needle and syringe. She stabbed it into his neck and injected the lucid green contents. Without so much as a whimper, much less a roar, Logan passed out again. The conclusion of the argument between the two villains was lost to him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**08**

Jean skipped backwards through Blaze's memories like a pebble skimming across a lake. Blaze was forced to relive her disastrous climb down the ice cliff, the trashing of the camp by Pyro and Ruckus, and finally the moment when Logan's radio transmission had cut off. The two redheads locked eyes and at the exact same time said, "The Erabus." Cyclops nodded, pursing his lips before ordering, "Let's go."

They got back on the snowmobiles yet again and zoomed across the ice to where the submarine lay trapped. Cyclops wanted to charge straight down to the great grey tube with its fresh frosting of snow. Gambit caught the other young man's arm and held him back. Angrily, Cyclops threw off Remy's hand, but Gambit could quantify what he meant.

"They got Logan," Gambit pointed out. "We go in all guns blazin', there ain't not'ing to stop 'em doin' him some serious damage. We go in on foot, quietly, we got a better chance o' getting to Logan wit'out them ever knowing we were here."

"Gambit has a point," Jean concurred. Cyclops nodded, "Okay, let's do it."

With their white hoods up and moving slowly and carefully across the pack ice, they looked like four small polar bears. Jean used her telekinesis to affect the motion sensors that were deposited in a rough circle around the trapped sub so that none of them went off. They reached the side of the submarine without incident and stood there panting with their backs pressed up against the Erabus' flank. Gambit reached out to the side and placed a bare hand on the cold plating. The metal tingled, and then silently dissolved as he took his touch away, just like a window of Angel's had done when Remy had robbed him under Mesmero's control. The four X-Men turned to enter the Erabus, only to find someone was coming the other way. It was Logan.

"Logan!" Scott was shocked, "How did you…"

"There's no time," Logan replied, staggering out onto the ice. "We have to get back to Bayville now, before Sinister."

"Sinister's going to Bayville?" Jean asked.

"Worse than that," Wolverine acknowledged. "He's sending his mutated troops with infinite powers to wipe out the X-Men!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

What had happened was this. Almost immediately after blacking out, Wolverine jolted back awake. No longer pinned to the table, he lurched upright as his claws slid through his knuckles with a snickt! His vision was blurred, nothing had edges, but his sense of smell was as keen as ever. "Magneto," he drawled, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

"Quickly Wolverine, can you stand?" Magneto gripped Logan by the shoulder and helped the feral turn to put his feet on the floor. Wolverine stood up whilst the world lurched drunkenly around him. "This way," ordered Magneto. The villain looped Wolverine's arm over his shoulder and supported Logan's faltering steps. Where Logan was being taken, the X-Man had no idea. "My spy satellites have recently announced the arrival of a second helicopter on the ice sheet. You must rendezvous with the X-Men rescue party and return to Bayville immediately."

"You knew me an' the Firefly were here all along, dincha?" Wolverine growled threateningly. "What have you done with Blaze, Magneto?"

"To the contrary, Wolverine," Magneto sounded surprised. "We only knew that a helicopter landed, stayed a short while as a base camp was established, and then pulled out. Once we had located yourself and destroyed the base camp, we perhaps naively stopped looking." Eric Lensherr was thoughtful for a moment, before continuing, "That would explain who called in the Velocity. Still, I would not give much hope to Blaze having survived a night exposed on the ice…"

"If anythin's happened to her I'll…" Wolverine growled threateningly.

"You'll do what exactly?" Magneto looked down his nose at the feral. "You brought her out here, Logan, knowing her inability to thrive in cold environments. You will have to take the responsibility if Blaze has been extinguished in the night. First things first though, we must get you out of the Erabus and help you rejoin your teammates."

"Why are you helpin' me escape?" demanded Logan. "You fallen out with your new girlfriend?"

"Sinister and I have had some… fundamental disagreements," Magneto confirmed. "My Acolytes and I will be leaving shortly. I am washing my hands of this project. However, wheels are now in motion that I cannot stop. Sinister wishes to give a baptism of fire to his new army. He will send his mutates against the X-Men, and soon. It is imperative that he be stopped. He has already gone too far."

"Then help us, fight with us," Logan asked insistently.

"No, that is not possible," Magneto declined. "I may disagree with certain aspects of Sinister's work, but our joint creations are like children to me."

"You don't care about your real children, Eric," pointed out the feral. "I can't believe you're sentimental about a collection of genetically engineered storm troopers."

"Believe it or not, Wolverine, it is the truth. I won't stand against them, but neither will I discourage the X-Men from fighting them," Magneto paused, pensive. Suddenly the wall in front of them dissolved in a silent shower of sparks. He recognised the power of his former Acolyte Gambit and gave Logan a shove towards the new doorway. Blinking, Wolverine staggered out into the snowscape and met the rescue attempt coming the other way.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I don't get it mon Ami," Gambit drawled after Logan had told them all he knew. "Magneto playin' an angle here, that for sure."

"'Course he is Gumbo," Wolverine griped. "He wants to see these creatures they've engineered in a real battle, just the same as Sinister. My thinking is he let me go so the five of us wouldn't miss the party."

"He's confident, that's for sure," Cyclops offered, piloting the Velocity deftly as they flew down the eastern North American coastline. "Let's hope that confidence is misplaced."

"You are sure the threat is imminent?" asked Storm's voice over the radio. She didn't sound sceptical, just gravely concerned.

"Absolutely," Logan told the weather witch. "Ready the kids, there could be an attack at any moment. We'll be there soon as we can."

"Way ahead o' yah, Logan," Rogue replied from the Institute. "We're all set. Jus' make sure ya'll get back here before the party's over."

"Never missed a party yet," chipped in Blaze, winking at Gambit. The Cajun grinned in reply. The adrenaline was kicking in now, and the 'copter couldn't skim through the air fast enough for those on board. However, fear suddenly transcended the excitement as a huge bang sounded out over the radio, followed by someone screaming.

"Rogue! Storm!" Logan shouted, grabbing the microphone roughly in both hands. "Anyone answer me! What's happening?"

"Wolverine!" Storm somehow put out the cry for help. "Hurry! They're here…"

The five X-Men on the 'copter listened anxiously as the sounds of a fight flooded back to them over the radio waves. There were shouts, thuds and bangs. A crack like the peal of thunder reverberated through the vehicle, before the radio fell silent, crackling with white noise. After a few moments, Scott reached over and turned the dysfunctional transmitter off. In their seats around the helicopter, the X-Men shrugged off the confines of their white snow gear, revealing with pride their uniforms underneath. The emblazoned X-insignia came to light as the heroes readied themselves to answer the call for help.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**A/N:** To Jean, who left a delicious flame review on my story, Blaze says "That's ok, I don't like you much either." I say "If you can't say something nice, then don't say nothing nothing at all." No one made you read my fics, so go deal with it. To everyone else who's left a NICE review, thank you, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Fight scene alert! Fight scene alert!

**09**

With a rumble like the growl of a tiger, the Velocity touched down on the X-Mansion's front lawn. The rotor blades scythed through the air like Logan's claws. The engines powered down as the gangway opened and five X-Men disembarked in earnest. Immediately they saw what had become of some of their teammates. Iceman, Golan and Multiple were laid out cold on the grass, barely even breathing. Storm was crouched by the boys' side, pushing the hair back from Multiple's brow. Jean cried out, "Ororo!" and started to jog to Storm's aide. Wolverine took a deep sniff, twice, through flared nostrils. His claws went snickt through his knuckles.

"Jean, no! That's not Storm!" Wolverine roared. Jean glanced back over her shoulder, only to be hit by a burst of telekinetic blast of her own power, stolen and bestowed on one of his minions by Sinister. Vertigo cackled heartily as Jean hit the trunk of a tree with a thud, groaning as she slid to the ground. Dropping Storm's form, the minion planted her feet firmly on the grass as Cyclops charged. Vertigo raised her chin defiantly and hit Cyclops with a torrent of her original power. Cyclops cried out as a tsunami of vertigo overwhelmed him, dropping him to his knees.

The other X-Men didn't have time to react. There was a shudder as a great red-brown portal opened to Wolverine's right-hand side. The man who stepped through the rift paused briefly to adjust his lacy coat cuffs, tossed his long brown hair back over his shoulder, and then pinned Logan with an icy stare. Without hesitating, Ruckus opened his maw and let loose a blood-curdling sonic blast. The sound waves sucker-punched the super-hearing mutant, making Wolverine clutch his ears in pain.

Coming to Logan's aide, Gambit charged and flung a spray of playing cards, forcing Ruckus to shut his mouth and take evasive action. Yet even when Remy's attack connected, the blast injuries to Ruckus' torso immediately closed up through a stolen mutant healing factor.

"Rem, behind you!" Blaze screamed. Gambit abandoned chasing Ruckus and turned, only to go ashen with dread. Fear petrified him as he was faced with the mutant menace who had nearly killed the Cajun at Halloween. Behemoth snarled silently at Remy. The movement rippled the organo-metal plating bestowed by Sinister that now covered a third of Behemoth's shaggy grey body. His over-long arms ended in three immense bone claws. With Gambit frozen, Behemoth raised his left arm and took aim. There was a whizzing noise as the bone claws shot out of Behemoth, flying through the air to impale Remy to the stone angel fountain on the Institute's front lawn.

"Oi, Behemoth!" roared Blaze as she furiously changed into her fire form, "Stick this!" Behemoth wailed as he was entrapped in a whirlwind of fire. Meanwhile, Cyclops got to his feet and went to Gambit's assistance. Much to Remy's amazement, he had not been turned into a kebab by Behemoth's new Spyke-like attack. His voluminous trench coat had taken most of the abuse, and Cyclops was able to use a low-level laser burst to cut Gambit down. Immediately Vertigo was after them, but Jean caught the other young woman in a telekinetic blast and threw her like a rag doll across the lawns.

A keening, high-pitched cry came from up above in the clear blue sky as three further minions entered the fray. A reptilian woman with green scales, forked tongue and vast dragon wings soared up over the roof of the mansion. Her slit eyes narrowed as she saw Blaze toasting Behemoth. The reptilian creature, christened Embyr by Sinister, summoned powers copied from Pyro and suddenly Blaze found her fire blasts swerving at Jean. With a cry Blaze abandoned her attack, taking cover under the trees as Embyr swooped after her with dagger-sharp talons.

Wolverine was about to go to Blaze's aide, when a frizzy-haired girl no older than Rogue was dropped at his feet by another flying mutant. Seeing the battle-frenzy in the girl's eyes, Logan tried to reason with her. "Look kid," was as far as he got before the berserk Iona attacked with Sabretooth-like fury. Wolverine roared with pain as concentrated acid was blasted in his face. The stench of acid-scorched tissue and adimantium filled the air. High above, the once-human Buzzard laced the battlefield with red laser eye blasts. This young Asian man was carried on Angel's wings, had Cyclops' power, and by the way he healed when Cyclops returned fire he had Logan's healing powers too.

"We can't beat them, they've got too many powers," Blaze gasped to Remy as he came to join her under the relative sanctuary of the trees. "It's like they are better mutants than we are!"

"There gotta be somet'ing," Gambit returned, ducking instinctively as Buzzard swooped low overhead. "Otherwise we're all gonna be ex-X-Men…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Whilst the battle raged outside, one lone figure cruised the mansion's corridors. Dressed in a long blue-black cloak, his pallid skin and sharp, beady red eyes made him a menacing presence. He paused only briefly, stopping as Shadowcat stirred on the hallway floor. Sinister stepped over the prone girl, taking a handkerchief and a brown bottle of liquid from a hidden pocket. Tipping some of the liquid onto the cloth, he placed the material over Kitty's mouth and nose. The chloroform rendered her unconscious once again, even before she had come around enough to utter a single word of protest. Besides her, Rogue did not even react. Smiling at his own genius, Sinister strode onwards.

The mansion's lower level security systems would perhaps have posed a problem to a lesser man of science. As it was, before Sinister had even launched his attack on the mansion, an electromagnetic pulse or EMP bomb had been set off in the vicinity. All the mansion's electrical systems had been fried. Sinister found it most amusing that Charles Xavier had not considered Magneto enough of a threat to install shielding against magnetism. If Sinister had his way, Xavier would soon learn that some enemies could not be so easily dismissed. It was time for these school children and their precocious instructors to learn a real lesson.

The modified Geiger counter in Sinister's grasp suddenly went off the scale, pipping away merrily to itself. Sinister's sadistic smile faded as he opened a nondescript lower level door. There, in a plastic casing like a museum exhibit, was the one thing he had come for. The case contained two glowing ruby shards, the gems of Ciccorak. They had been stolen from Sinister's Arctic base by the undercover Gambit and Blaze. Sinister crossed the room briskly, pocketing the Geiger counter before reaching out to open the door on the case. A slight humming filled the air as he carefully lifted the gems out, examining them for damage. There was none, and Sinister felt relief wash over him.

The diversion caused by his mutates worked perfectly, and shortly Sinister was leaving the mansion undetected. Even if the X-Men eventually defeated his creations, it no longer mattered. They had served their purpose, and Sinister had bigger fish to fry. Now the gems of Ciccorak were back in his possession, he could continue with his experiments. Magneto may want nothing more to do with them, for now at least, but Sinister had other avenues available to him. Most of all, Sinister had an absolute raw desire to succeed at his work.

Sinister considered himself a doctor, attending the painful birth of the next generation of mutants. With time, and two unwitting contributions from very special mutant donors named Scott Summers and Jean Grey, he would succeed in what would theoretically be the ultimate genetic coupling of their kind. He would create a living, breathing weapon the kind of which had never before walked the earth, and nothing now could stop Sinister from achieving his dream, his hope for tomorrow…


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**10**

Back outside, the unrelenting scream of laser blasts and the seething roar of fire and acid were finally broken by a shout of defiance. "Hey losers," cried a familiar voice from an upstairs window of the mansion, "Catch!" It was Tabitha, Magma and Morose, leaning out of the window with attacks primed and ready. Embyr and Buzzard immediately flew up towards the window, only to be beaten back by a rain of exploding firecrackers, fistfuls of lava-fire, and several hardback books as thrown by Morose. Blaze and Gambit took the hint, broke from cover and attacked the two airborne mutants with their own ranged attacks.

"Jean!" yelled Wolverine from the midst of his scrap with Iona, "Get Morose!"

It took Jean less than a second to telekinetically throw Behemoth into Vertigo. Scott blasted the pair of mutates into the fountain, and then knocked back Ruckus before he could avenge his downed teammates. With Blaze and Remy providing covering fire, Jean flew up to the window and offered a hand to Morose. The white haired girl gulped, rubbing the small goat-like horns that protruded from her forehead with her wrist. "I can't do this," she told Jean solemnly.

"Please Morose, we need you," Jean insisted. Still the girl wasn't convinced, but she climbed onto the window ledge and took Jean's hand nonetheless. They descended gracefully to the ground, protected by Jean's telepathic shielding. The front of the mansion resembled a scene from Dante's Inferno. Amidst the smoke, ash and charred stench of burnt earth, the X-Men regrouped around the small girl who was their only hope of ending this battle quickly.

Sinister's mutates also recoiled, lining up together to face this unexpected behaviour from their opponents. Grey smoke drifted across the scene and the sun seemed to dim in the swooping sky above. Morose took a deep breath, before unleashing her depression-fed mutation. Ribbons of black mist entwined with the smoke, swelling and growing until a massive black bubble swallowed up the X-Men's opponents like the tide reclaiming the rocky shore.

"You're sure this will work?" asked Cyclops, who had not experienced Morose's powers before. "Morose's attack will strip them of their powers, but it can't affect anyone who is a Guardian of Destiny?"

"I ain't sure, no," Wolverine, the Metal Guardian, replied. "I don't know what Sinister is capable of, but this is our best shot."

"Let's do this," Jean agreed vehemently, feeling the strength of the Guardian of Thought swell inside her. Cyclops, he of Energy, had a similar ferocious expression in his chiselled features. Blaze, Fire Guardian, looked over at Gambit and was aghast, "You can't go in there Rem. You're not a Guardian. You won't have any powers."

"Neither will they," pointed out the Cajun. He shrugged out of his torn trench coat and in the same smooth motion withdrew his extending staff weapon. With a flick of his thumb, he triggered the extending mechanism. Blaze felt gooseflesh trickle over the back of her neck just watching him prepare himself. Gambit's eyes narrowed as he considered the dark bubble in front of him, "'Rose can handle these losers, eh Petite?"

"I couldn't knock them out, there are too many and they are too strong," Morose replied in a distracted voice. "I've just made them upset, and took their powers away. You should go in now, before they find their way out."

Wolverine patted the kid reassuringly on the shoulder; she had done good. Morose's ability to create this power-hungry void wasn't just depression fed. It also created a depression so raw it overwhelmed those inside it. As the X-Men stepped through, they were ready for the crushing emotion. Each of the five team-members fought off the invasive feeling of oblivion with the only weapon they had against it, their anger.

Suffused with a violent repulsion against these genetically engineered mutates who had attacked their home and their family, the X-Men showed no mercy. In the pitch-black void, out of phase with the rest of existence, Sinister's now powerless troops stood a snowball's chance in Hell. If the X-Men had been less well drilled, less in control, it would have been a massacre…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Not long afterwards, the unconscious mutates were tied up by the fountain, watched by Wolverine. Logan was on the phone to Nick Fury, explaining why he and Blaze were no longer in the Arctic and insisting that Shield come and take the mutates away. Fury didn't need asking twice. At the same time the others were roaming through the mansion, doing a headcount and treating the injured. So far there was nothing worse than a few nasty bumps on the head to report. Still Logan wished that the Professor and Beast were here to treat the injured, and most of all Ilehana. It wasn't like the Wolverine to be so sentimental, and he quickly pushed all such pointless thoughts aside as Gambit came to join him.

"Still no sign o' Sinister himself," Gambit reported.

"No?" Logan asked. Remy shook his head, making Logan sigh wearily. "Why do I get the feelin'," he wondered aloud, "that we been set up, and this is just a cover for somethin' else?"

"You t'ink dis all a play to distract us?" Gambit was horrified. "Why? From what?"

"I don't know," Logan admitted, "I guess…"

Whatever he guessed was cut off by the roar of jet engines. The Blackbird soared majestically over the mansion, before banking steeply and dropping to land in tandem next to the Velocity. Blaze and Jean came out of the mansion to watch as the jet's gangway lowered ceremoniously. The open doorway revealed a stunning, lean blonde woman with smiling Xavier eyes. Logan's jaw dropped open too, but with much less decorum than the X-Jet's gangway. After being feared dead for so long, Ilehana Xavier was returned to the X-Men.

"Vixen!" yelped Blaze, barrelling across the lawn to welcome her old friend back with a fierce hug. Ilehana returned the embrace, but she only had eyes for Logan. Noticing this, Gambit went over and took hold of Blaze by the elbow.

"Cherie, I t'ink maybe Vixen an' Wolverine need a moment," Remy whispered in Blaze's ear. Blaze flushed, slightly embarrassed, and let herself be led away. Somehow Wolverine managed to walk sensibly up to Ilehana, scoop her unresisting slender form into his strong arms, and kiss her deeply.

"Okay, that's a better welcome home than I had planned," Blaze admitted to Gambit as they politely averted their eyes from the reunited couple. Beast raised a hand in greeting to the Cajun and the English girl as Jean escorted Hank and the Professor into the mansion. Both Remy and Laura waved back, before a sudden wave of shyness accosted Blaze as she tried to excuse herself from Gambit's company, "I'd better get back inside myself, they're gonna be shorthanded…"

"I need to keep an eye on de mutates 'til Logan comes up for air," Gambit admitted with a grin. Blaze pursed her lips to stop herself from grinning, and with a shake of her head started to walk away. Gambit thought about calling her back and confronting the nest of writhing gators in his stomach. Not today Remy, he told himself silently. In any case, ole Logan jus' 'bout gone an' stole your thunder…


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.

**11**

Several days later, and life at the Xavier Institute was finally returning to normal. The injured were treated, the mangled gardens pruned and replanted, and Logan had just about overcome the dazed look that had bewitched him since Ilehana's return. Instead, he confided in his partner the guilt he felt as he watched Blaze struggle to get her Arctic misadventures out of her system. Incapable of sleeping due to the recurring nightmare of being buried under the snow, Blaze had spent the last three days wrapped in her duvet moaning about still feeling cold.

"Magneto was right. I never should have taken Blaze on that mission. She's totally unsuited to those temperatures, I could've gotten her killed," Logan told Vixen quietly. They were sat on a sofa, watching a concerned Gambit try and coax Blaze into taking a bowl of his homemade Cajun-style hot 'n' spicy chicken soup. To Logan's extensive senses, it smelt uncommonly like Iona's acid, but he didn't mention that to the former Acolyte.

"Magneto is rarely right about anything," Vixen counselled her partner sagely. "The X-Men risk everything every time they go on a mission, whether it is to the Arctic or not. The fact is that Blaze didn't die, and as the old adage goes 'whatever doesn't kill you can only make you stronger'. Besides," Vixen continued, putting her head on Logan's shoulder as Gambit finally got Blaze to try the soup. "If Blaze hadn't gone on the mission, Gambit couldn't have saved her life, and she wouldn't be looking at him now like Guinevere gazed on Lancelot."

"Huh," Logan chuckled at the literary comparison, "Nice image. What are you trying to say exactly babe? That it was all suppose t'happen like this?"

"Maybe," Vixen smiled cryptically. "All I am saying is that you shouldn't berate yourself too much. Some things are bigger than you, Logan." The smile became a laugh as Vixen hauled herself to her feet and went to leave the room, "Actually most things are bigger than you, titch…"

"It's a good job you're so damn cute," Logan growled threateningly as his eyes followed Vixen from the room. He could hear her telepathic laughter resonating in his skull, but wouldn't have been rid of it for the entire world.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elsewhere, Hank and the Professor were pondering the disappearance of the gems of Ciccorak in the lower levels. Hank was troubled, not so much by the disappearance itself, but more by what the disappearance could mean for the future. Xavier sensed his X-Man's grave concern, but held his tongue until Hank cleared his throat to ask, "What will happen next?"

"There is no way for us to know," Xavier replied grimly, "We can only wait and see what tomorrow may bring."

"I am confused Charles," Hank admitted with some reserve. "If a mutant can be created, as Sinister has proved they can be, where does that leave us? Can a mutate claim the same rights as we are trying to assure for our kind, the right to live freely alongside normal humans?"

"I think, Hank, that these are questions we may one day have to answer. The moral issues raised by the existence of these creations of science, rather than nature, run deep indeed," replied Xavier. "There may yet come a day when we have to redefine who we are here to help and protect, indeed our very definition of what is a mutant…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finally the training sessions restarted in earnest. Saturday morning found a somewhat recovered Blaze and a group of five pupils in an alleyway near busy downtown Bayville. Berserker, Cannonball, Morose, Golan and Multiple were all in civilian clothing, as was Blaze. As she kept telling her charges, this exercise was all about blending in.

"You can never be sure," Blaze said calmly, "that you're going to be faster or cleverer than whoever is chasing you. You might think that you know a really good shortcut, but he might know it too. You have to cultivate the ability to blend in, disappear, and never be seen again. If you charge into a crowded street at full pelt, it'll be blatantly obvious where you are and what you're doing. It takes guts, but if you move at the same speed as the crowd you'll be more easily hidden.

"Gambit is going to release the other team in thirty seconds," Blaze continued, checking her watch. "They will soon be right on your tail. Stick together, watch out for each other, and try not to do anything stupid, okay? See you back at the Institute. Ready, set, go!"

At her cue, the five students sprinted off and around the corner at the far end of the alley. Even before the corner, the chunky Golan had already fallen behind. Much to Blaze's approval, Morose paused at the corner and waited for Golan to catch up. Blaze had put Golan in this group specifically to slow them down, to make them think about what they were doing. There was no way with the earth elemental in their team that the hunted could outrun the hunters. Speaking of which…

"Five, four, three, two, one," counted Blaze, backing up against the wall of the alley. Right on time, Magma, Tabby, Iceman, Nightcrawler and Wolfsbane charged around the corner and headed off up the street in hot pursuit of Blaze's team. Each one of the pursuers carried a bright pink streamer with sticky tape at one end. It was basically a game of pin the tail on the donkey, only the donkeys had a head start. Blaze smiled, half wishing she was playing herself. Still, instructors should be aloof and professional, shouldn't they? And it wasn't like she hadn't done this for real once or twice, on her travels.

"How long d'you t'ink it'll take 'em to get home?" asked Gambit. He came to stand next to Blaze whilst they both looked up the alley to where the students had disappeared.

"Maybe half an hour, forty-five minutes tops," Blaze replied. "We should get back so we are there to meet them."

"Don't worry Cherie, Stormy said she keep an eye open at the Institute for us."

Blaze glanced sharply over her shoulder at the tall Cajun, asking "Why?" Gambit just smiled smugly, saying nothing. Anxious for a reason she couldn't explain, Blaze turned to face him properly. Confusion was written on her pretty features, what was her friend up to this time? And what was wrong with his arm?

Still smiling what he hoped was a charming grin; Gambit pulled his right arm out from behind his back. Ceremoniously he presented Blaze with a posy of flaming orange carnations and sunshine yellow chrysanthemums. Blaze gasped, honestly shocked, but in a warm fuzzy way that tinted her cheeks pink and lit up her big brown eyes. Her hand was shaking as she accepted the flowers. Abruptly she flung her arms, flowers and all, around Gambit's neck and hugged him tight. Remy chuckled, returning the hug, before letting the flummoxed girl go.

"Coffee?" he asked her, offering a hand to hold.

"Coffee," she confirmed, and that is what they did.

Roll credits………………………………………………

A/N: So? What do you think? Do I need to do a season 3? Luv, Lamby


End file.
